It’s been over a year since I sold my Citation Mustang. I’ve been moping ever since. I started swearing at the cat, only to find out we don’t own a cat. I argued with Patty over the most trivial matters like the Supreme Court or the future of our Republic. I dug a moat around our house.
It was simply time to get back into the left seat. But first, I had to deal with some realities.
I don’t need and can’t afford a turbine-powered airplane.
Two engines have always been my preference.
At the age of seventy-three, this will likely be my last ride.
It appears to me I buy airplanes so that I will have stories to write about in T &T.
Why not end my ownership career the way it began?
With a Beechcraft Baron. But which one?
My first owned airplane was a B55, the “Baby Baron.” I set off to find one.
I traveled to Nashville, Tennessee, to visit Stephen Hammers, owner of probably the nicest B55 in the world. Winner of a restoration award from the American Bonanza Society, this beauty had everything. Steve was kind enough to take me for a flight after picking me up in his fully restored 1965 Mustang convertible. We spent the day talking airplanes, selling businesses, and life in general. But alas, I realized that after flying for forty years in air-conditioned comfort, Patty and I needed to be slightly more pampered.
While in Wichita for Baron training in FlightSafety’s simulator, I found a beautiful 1979 model 58. Fantastic interior, excellent paint and new Garmin avionics. “What do you mean it’s not pressurized,” Patty questioned.
I caught a Southwest flight to Chicago and met Dan Krause, owner of a well-restored, pressurized Baron. Dan was the consummate host, even preparing lunch for us as we flew to Indianapolis. He included an apple and an orange in the Tupperware container.
What I realized is that you meet some of the nicest people while looking for an airplane. Especially ones built over forty years ago. Each one has a unique story. The logbooks are written like a historical novel. Handwriting analysis was necessary. Ever had an uncle “disappear” for ten years and then show up at a family dinner? One of the Barons I flew seemingly disappeared for ten years, then showed up with eleven additional hours in the logs. I had a blast educating myself.
Then, by chance, I noticed a “project” pressurized Baron in Reno, Nevada.
“Yes, that’s exactly what you need,” said Patty. Another project.”
Next month, meet my project.
Fly safe.
